


Mistress and Maid

by Maccalover



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 14:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maccalover/pseuds/Maccalover
Summary: Present-day dystopian setting, sort of a handmaid's tale setting, and Paul McCartney stars as a heroic, romantic figure.





	1. Chapter 1

“Make sure you bring him his afternoon drink on time, you know how he gets.”  
Yes, you knew exactly how he got. You’d been working for the man himself, making drinks and scheduling appointments, for the last six months- but you didn’t mind. Nothing could detract from how grateful you felt to be away from the worsening political situation in America, nor how in awe you were of your boss- for you worked for the greatest living musician, and one at least two occasions, he had even made eye contact with you.  
It wasn’t quite what you’d imagined, gazing at his posters as a teenager, and listening to his work for years. He was married, and by all accounts, a very busy man these days. Fetching coffee and hearing a few words of praise every few days was enough, for you were lucky enough to have secured a job as personal assistant to the legendary Sir Paul McCartney.  
You’ve never quite been able to believe your luck on this count. You’d been a fan since childhood, and now you have the opportunity to speak to him on a daily basis. Not that you’ve ever quite worked it up to speak more than a mumble at him, but there was time.  
You had fled to the United Kingdom on the advice of a friend, who had turned out to be right- the problems in the states grew worse, and many places were no longer safe. There were political factions in Britain gaining power as well, but nothing was as bad as not knowing if you were going to be killed at work, or even in church.  
Life was much safer now that you had moved away from the turmoil, and safer still once you had secured a job for a relatively reclusive musician, and over time, you had gotten used to his routine.  
He enjoyed the late sleep when he wasn’t touring, and normally spent a few hours in his office, alone, or at the studio he’d had built just off the house. McCartney was by no means a fool, and so when news of foreboding political alliances reared its head on the horizon, he had become more reclusive still, securing all the property around his offices and home.  
The climate had put a rather bad taste in his wife’s mouth; Nancy preferred to go out many times a week, and now with the new regulations for women in action, she was unable to leave the house without her husband, and he wasn’t much inclined to leave these days.  
Not that he agreed with any of the new rules, he just felt his talents were best used helping his children and grandchildren escape to neutral nations- all very quietly, of course. The notoriously tight, and royalist, former Beatle would have been the last person expected to spend so much on such matters.  
The last straw for Nancy came in mid-July, when the news published yet another law: Women were no longer to own property; all their assets had become their husband’s overnight. Her shriek could be heard throughout the house.  
Paul went to comfort his wife, assured her that as far as he was concerned, her money was still hers. Many hours later, Nancy left with a trail of bodyguards, amid rumors in the household that he was sending her to someplace else to await the end of the political problems in England.  
Over the next few weeks, Paul spent more and more time in his studio, or his rooms. You bring him his food and his afternoon drink every day, but he doesn’t speak much, until one day before you can leave, he gestures for you to sit down.  
“You’ve been working for me a few months, so it looks like you know how I like things around here.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“They released something today- even if you’re unmarried and accompanied by a male relative, you can still be arrested, particularly if you’re American.”  
“I… I hadn’t heard.”  
“Well, you do well around here. It’s not safe for you to continue going home, even with the bodyguards. There are several bedrooms downstairs; you may pick any of them. I don’t want any more of the household disappearing.”  
“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate this, you’re very kind.”  
He clears his throat and goes back to his computer. This has been the most he’s spoken to you in six months, yet the teenage girl in you feels her heart lighten as the memories of watching his beautiful mouth form those romantic words dance around your head.  
You shake your head. No, he’s 76 years old, and your employer. You’re lucky enough to be one of the few people he interacts with on a daily basis.  
There was no way to tell at this point that you would be thrust so much closer together.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the last few weeks, things outside the house have gotten worse and worse. Women are considered the property of their husbands, and you’re never allowed to leave the house at all, let alone take a walk on the grounds. You continue working for Paul as you did before, but even he can see you looking wistfully out the windows sometimes.   
One Friday, he was not in his room, but had left a note that he went to see a friend nearby, taking with him his usual team of bodyguards. Happy to have a morning off, you go to sit in one of the spacious living areas, reading a book. The only people left in the house are you and the household security guard.   
Suddenly, someone begins to beat at the door, so fiercely that it seems to shake the entire house.   
The guard puts a finger to his lips, and goes to answer the door.   
“I’m very sorry, but Mr. McCartney is not in at the-“  
“We know he isn’t, that’s not what we’re here for. We got a tip that there is an American living in this house illegally, and we’re here to collect and detain all aliens.”  
You quietly rise from the couch, intending to run and hide, but the military police are too quick; you’re held by strong arms and handcuffed.   
“You can’t take her, not while Mr. McCartney-“  
A flurry of activity ensues and his words are obscured. The MP places a cover over your eyes and shoves you roughly down the path towards the street. You can hear the guard arguing with the MPs but to no avail. Your fate is set now, and no one has any idea where the American prisoners are being taken. All at once, a shout is heard in the distance; you’d recognize that voice anywhere. You feel the MP loosen his grip on your arms as Paul approaches.   
“What the hell is going on here? D’you know who I am?”  
“We’re very sorry for the inconvenience, sir, but this woman is here unlawfully. It’s only my job to take her-“  
“You can’t take her, damn it, she’s my WIFE.”  
A long silence follows this declaration. You’re glad your eyes are covered, for in your current state your face would immediately display your confusion. Wife?  
“Ah… your wife, sir?”  
“Yeah. And according to your boss, women are property, so this one’s mine. Get the hell off my property and unhand my wife.”  
“Very sorry, sir, we didn’t know is all, we’d never want to take from you, you being a knight and all…”  
“I’m glad we understand each other. Loose her, please.”  
The MP undoes the handcuffs and removes the cover from your eyes, and Paul reaches to put a protective arm around you. His hair is grey and windswept but he looks not at all frail. He stands this way, arm over your shoulder, watching coldly until the MPs have turned the corner. He then looks around, grabs your hand, and leads you back into the house.


End file.
